


Drop of a Hat

by MissCora, seamusdeanforever_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCora/pseuds/MissCora, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamusdeanforever_archivist/pseuds/seamusdeanforever_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavender always said that Seamus fell in love at the drop of a hat, but who knew that it was such a literal thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop of a Hat

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 
> 
> Author's Note: Many thanks to Clio for the push that lead me to the ending, and Zan for being the inspiration for my Lavender.  
>  Thanks also to all the people who put up with my whinging about the fact that I didn't know how it ended. Now I know.

Lavender always said he fell in love at the drop of a hat. A very unfair statement, at least as far as Seamus was concerned, but the fact remained that they'd been out of school for two years and he'd gone through seven significant others and a good dozen short flings. And every time he met someone new he'd come to her with the same story. The particulars would be different - they'd met at a pub, at the movies, in a shop - but it was always the same. He'd be charming, she'd be sweet, one date would lead to many, and soon Lav would get the call. "I think I'm in love." It came to be that Lavender dreaded those words.

She wanted him to be happy, she really did, but he fell so easily and so often. "This one is different. This time it's real." And she hated seeing him hurt when it turned out that this one was just like all the others.

***

Seamus fell in love at the drop of a hat, but he never thought that was a literal statement. Certainly there was nothing inherently romantic or even flirtatious about a dropped hat. It wasn't like a handkerchief or a glove, something you could hold onto and moon over until you got to return it. No, it was just a hat. A baseball cap, to be exact.

And it wasn't actually dropped either, so much as blown off by the wind of the subway leaving precisely on time, as Seamus dashed down the stairs, almost a minute too late.

An inarticulate shout, out of practice Chaser reflexes, and a piece of wayward headgear. Not a very romantic start to a story.

***

"Thank you for catching my hat." There was something familiar about the voice.

"Not a problem," Seamus said, looking up at the tall black man coming towards him. His hair cut short, his clothes immaculate and highly flattering, the smile on his face slowly fading as he gazed down at the young Irish man.

"Seamus?"

That voice saying his name finally triggered his memory. "Oh my god. Dean?" A grin broke across Seamus' face. "What are you doing here? I thought you went to some fancy art school in America."

"I did, but I came back. God, it's good to see you." An answering grin appeared on Dean's face and Seamus was momentarily startled by its brightness.

"What are you doing today?" he asked. "Whatever it is, cancel it."

Dean laughed. "Actually I have no plans. But what about you? The way you were running for that train it looked like you were late for something."

Seamus glanced at his watch. "I am. I was. Doesn't matter now. You and me are going to the cafe across the street, and if I miss my appointment then I miss it. Come on."

It had been almost a year and a half since they had last seen each other, but before that they had seven years as best friends and roommates tying them together, so it seemed perfectly natural for Seamus to reach out and grab Dean's hand, pulling him up the stairs. And if they both held on little longer than strictly necessary, well, there was no one to see or comment.

***

They spent the morning at the cafe just talking, and the afternoon wandering around the city, catching up on everything, and after Dean had to go Seamus finally called Lavender to apologize.

She wasn't angry. She'd learned long ago that it did her no good to be angry with Seamus. He never meant any harm and was always so sincerely sorry, even though he'd go out and do it again next week - whatever it had been. But he was always so good about not forgetting or messing up the big, important things that everyone let him slide on the little things.

How can you be angry with someone who is there for you when it matters, no matter what, is willing to blow off anything that's less important than you, and is willing to decide that when you're upset everything is less important than you. When Seamus gave someone his attention he gave them his full attention, and nothing would stop him from being there for them. It was wonderful, and made you feel like the center of the world, up until someone else he cared for had a crisis and he needed to be there for them, and then it was as though the sun stopped shining. It was why most of his relationships didn't work out, although he didn't see it.

***

Dean had been back in town for almost three weeks before Lavender finally hunted Seamus down to invite the two of them over for dinner. Seamus and Dean had been spending every evening Dean had free together, catching up and exploring, but as a result almost none of the rest of their friends even knew he was home.

"You know, I'd like the chance to see him too," she said, her reproving tone coming through even on his mobile's bad reception.

"Huh? Oh, I didn't even think..." Seamus trailed off,

"Of course you didn't, Seamus. That's why you keep me around Ñ to think of all the common sense things you inevitably forget. Now, my place, Friday night. Be there by seven p.m. or I'll be very put out."

"Sure. Want me to bring anything?"

"Just Dean." One of the staff at her office was waving at Lavender, and she looked up distractedly. "Oh, blast. Got to go darling. I'll see you then."

"Friday, check. Later you."

Lavender hung up the phone with a sigh and headed out of her office to see what new emergency had come up today.

***

"Dinner with Lavender? Sounds fantastic." Dean and Seamus were spending Wednesday night just wandering around. Seamus had cut out of work at three in the afternoon so they could catch an early movie and they'd grabbed take out so they could walk along the edge of the river and talk.

"Yeah. Everybody's missed you a lot." Seamus glanced down at the last few chips in his container, then scowled at them and tossed them into a waste basket as they walked past. "I guess I've been kind of monopolizing your time, haven't I?" He tried to sound repentant, but he just couldn't feel bad while Dean was around.

"Well, I've missed them, but I wouldn't have given up any of the time I've spent with you for the world." Dean's smile pulled an answering grin out of Seamus.

"Yeah, me neither."

It wasn't even conscious, not really. They were simply walking along, and it seemed perfectly natural for their shoulder's to bump lightly, or their hands to brush each other.

Dean suddenly stopped, his hand moving to grab Seamus' arm. "Look," he said urgently, pointing across the river. A pair of ducks was swimming along, fishing, and had glided directly across the deep red reflection of the setting summer sun. "Oh, I wish I had an easel," Dean breathed quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness that had settled around them. "I'd love to paint that."

Seamus turned to smile up at his friend, and was struck by the way the setting sun had thrown Dean's profile into sharp relief. For the first time Seamus took a good look at his ex-dorm mate and what he saw took his breath away.

Slowly Dean turned to look at him, his hand sliding lightly down the Irishman's arm and sending a little shiver up his spine. "Cold?" Dean asked gently.

"No, not really." Seamus grinned and laughed a little, absolutely thrilled with the world.

***

Lavender had known Seamus a long time. She knew his expressions, his habits, his strange little obsessions, and she knew when he had fallen heads over heels in love with someone. Really, on Seamus it was hard to miss, and someone would have to have been blind to not see it when the two of them made it to her flat for dinner.

She saw the way his eyes seemed to lighten when they rested on Dean, how his smile was brighter than ever when it was directed at the black man, and how, without even thinking about it, Seamus would react to Dean's presence, turning when he entered a room. She watched all evening, and chatted and smiled, and worried more and more. Because someone would have to have been blind not to see it, but Dean seemed completely unaware.

Not unaffected, mind Ñ it was not possible to be hit with the full force of Seamus' killer smile and not be affected Ñ simply unaware, as though the idea had never even entered his consciousness. And the more she watched the clearer it became.

As the evening came to an end Lavender hugged the two of them goodbye and told Seamus, "Call me tomorrow, kay?"

"Sure, babe," he said with a smile before the two of them headed out.

***

If nothing else, Lavender thought, at least this time the pattern had changed. For once it wasn't Seamus calling with 'fantastic news' but rather he was calling because she'd told him to, and her 'news' was far from fantastic.

"Hey, Lavender, what's up?"

"I just..." How to begin. It was an almost impossible task. How do you let your best friend know you think he's fallen in love with someone who not only hasn't noticed, but probably wouldn't return the feeling. After all, with the way Seamus had been acting, the only way Dean wouldn't have noticed was if he was straight and simply didn't see Seamus like that. "I just wanted to know how you were doing?"

"How am I doing? Lav, you just saw me last night. Why have me call when we talked for hours yesterday?"

"I mean, how's Dean?"

"Lav, what's this all about? Dean's great. We've been having a blast, and next week we're going to dinner with Harry, Ron, and 'Mione. What you said reminded us both that there were other Gryffindors around we should probably see."

Lavender could hear the smile in his tone, and winced a little bit at the casual assumptions Seamus seemed to be making. 'We', 'us', Seamus was talking like they were a couple already. "Well, it's not like _you've_ not seen them, Seamus. You've been here for the past year. Dean's the one who's just come back."

"Yes, Lav, I know that." His tone said he had no idea what she was getting at. "But even so, I don't spend much time with them, and now that my best friend's back from the States why shouldn't I spend a little time with him."

"A little time? Three weeks straight isn't a little time. Besides, I thought I was your best friend." She was teasing, but he responded seriously.

"You're my best girl-friend, and my favorite ex, you know that, Lav. But Dean's Dean. He's been my best friend since first year."

"Yeah, I know. I just... I just think..." She couldn't do it. There was no way she could say it. _Seamus, you're falling in love and he's not._ She just couldn't.

"You just think what?"

"I think it's just great that you two are still so close." But it was too late to cover.

"That's not what you were going to say Lavender. Now tell me what's going on."

A soft sigh escaped her. "Seamus, are you falling in love with Dean?"

"What? No! I... No. He's just... No! I mean... he's straight, I ... Just... No..." The last pause was the longest, and Lavender simply waited. Finally it came, so quietly the receiver almost didn't pick it up. "Yes."

"Oh, Seamus..."

***

It wasn't that he didn't like the movie. Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers were great, Seamus knew that, and he'd enjoyed all their movies that he'd seen. It's just that it was really really hard to concentrate on a sweet, boy gets girl movie when he was trapped in a mental circle of boy fails to get boy. His continual glances at Dean's profile really weren't helping him follow the story either.

_He's not interested, he really isn't. I need to not do this. I really really really need to not do this. Why am I doing this to myself?_

His eyes drifted to his left, taking in the little smile that had slipped onto Dean's face at some sweet words from the movie. Dean's eyes were shining, and Seamus knew he was in trouble when the thought crossed his mind that his ears were cute.

_I know better than this. I've had my heart broken hundreds of times, and even then I've never fallen for someone who didn't at least go for my gender._

Another swift glance - Dean was softly chewing on his lower lip, almost scowling at something that had happened to Ginger.

_I am so doomed._

***

"So what did you think?"

"Hmm?" Seamus finally glanced up, meeting Dean's eyes for the first time since they'd left the theater.

"The movie. What did you think?"

"Oh... Oh yeah. It was great, really great."

A single arched eyebrow and disbelieving look. "What was your favorite part?"

"Um... Well, I really liked the dance." Seamus' eyes had drifted back to the ground, as he walked, so he didn't notice when Dean stopped and he kept walking.

"Seamus..."

He looked up and failed to see Dean. Glancing back he spotted Dean staring at him.

"Seamus, your favorite part of the movie was the _dance_. This was a Fred'n'Ginger movie and your favorite part was _the_ dance?"

Seamus blinked then opened his mouth and shut it again. "There really is no answer to that, you know," he finally said. "So yeah, I totally failed here. Let me start again?"

The eyebrow had gone back up, but his expression was at least no longer quite so accusatory. "Sure, go ahead. What was your favorite part of the movie?"

Seamus quickly thought back over the little bits of the movie he had actually watched. "I've got to say, when Fred saved Ginger, saying essentially, 'She taught me how to dance, she really did', and Ginger's staring him, but goes along with it, even though she's got no idea what he's on about. That was adorable."

The smile that broke out across Dean's face obliterated the worry that had started to settle in Seamus' stomach and he couldn't help grinning in answer. Resolving to at least not worry for the rest of the night, he waited for Dean to catch up with him and the two set off down the street, chatting about Fred and Ginger and simply wandering.

***

He knew Dean was noticing. He knew it, and he couldn't help it. Damn Lavender for having brought the whole thing up to begin with. He'd been perfectly happy living in the world of denial, but she'd brought it up and now he couldn't stop.

He couldn't stop the glances. He couldn't stop being aware of where Dean was at all times. He couldn't stop being distracted and slow to catch on to jokes and late to figure out what Dean had said because he was too busy watching how he'd said it.

And Dean was noticing. He hadn't commented since the first time at the movie theater, but half the time when he looked up he'd catch Dean looking back with the oddest expression on his face.

Damn Lavender.

***

"Seamus, Dean, welcome! Come in, come in!" Hermione had opened the door, grinning, and the second Dean stepped into the flat she'd pulled him down into a tight hug. "My god, Dean, I'd forgotten how bloody tall you are."

Seamus laughed. "Really, dating Ron and you talk of tallness? Come on, 'Mione, Ron's got a couple of centimeters on Dean, I swear."

"Surely not." Harry had come into the room and grinned a welcome at Dean. "I mean, I know from our point of view they're a pair of giants and it's little enough difference to begin with, but even you'd be able to see that Dean's taller." Harry had never really grown up, probably as a result of lack of nutrition when he was little, but he didn't complain. He always said it gave him an edge as a seeker, still being small enough to get carded at bars. "Hey, Dean, welcome back."

"Hi, guys," Ron's voice floated in from the other room. "I'd come in and greet you properly, but I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Ron's cooking?" Dean asked, looking confused and Harry grinned at him.

"Yeah. Well, we none of us felt like slaving over the stove, and Mrs. Weasley made sure all the kids knew how to cook the wizard way. Saves on time at least. So when we're in a rush he cooks, although normally I'd never let him in the kitchen."

"I heard that!"

Hermione grinned, then gestured the two guests in. "Ha'penny tour, guys. Bathroom's that way, this is the dining-cum-living room, kitchen can be found by following the sound of Ron's swearing..." And indeed, at that moment a muffled curse sounded from the other room, followed by a small bang.

"No you bloody thing! Don't you..."

"I'm amazed you let him in the kitchen at all," Seamus said and Harry grinned again.

"Bedrooms are to the left and right of the bathroom, but don't go in Harry's, it's a pit..."

"Oi!"

"And we'll probably be eating out on the terrace, which you get to through the kitchen," she finished.

Dean glanced around. "This is a great place, you know. I'm really impressed."

"Thanks," Harry said. "Not nearly as clean nor as stylish as Lavender's, I know, but we like it. Here, grab a seat. Anything I can get you guys?"

The four of them were soon joined by Ron, who assured them everything in the kitchen was fine, but refused to let any of them go in there. "No, really. If you go in something will just get messed up. It's all working in balance, and knowing you, Seamus, you'd want to try something and disrupt one of my spells."

"I wouldn't!" Seamus protested, although he couldn't help grinning.

"Sure you would, you walking stomach." Dean was laughing as he settled back into the couch, his eyes shining at his best friend. "Honestly, put you anywhere near food and the food will mysteriously vanish."

"Indeed," Hermione agreed. "How the hell do you stay so fit?"

The conversation was innocuous, the company was lovely, and Seamus felt a lot of the stress from the last week slowly drain out of him as he chatted and smiled and listened to old friends catching up on everything under the sun.

***

"You know, this is excellent," Seamus said, finishing the wine in his glass.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Harry's latest is a bit of a connoisseur apparently, keeps sending him home with a bottle or two. Very odd, actually, since we've never met the guy. If I didn't know better I'd say he was trying to turn Harry into a lush."

Harry half scowled at his friend, but offered the bottle to Seamus. "Here, finish this one and I'll go open another."

***

He hadn't drunk that much, just enough to be happier, more comfortable. Afterwards, when he finally told Lavender what had happened, he would blame it on the wine.

***

It is amazing how quickly wine can go to your head. Hard liquor will kick you on your ass, but wine is insidious. The pleasant 'all is well with the world' feeling of wine sneaks up on you, and it is hard to think of anything more wonderful than being with the one you love while the soft, lovely drunkenness that comes from good wine fills you.

If the one you love doesn't love you back it can present some problems, but Seamus was willing to ignore them.

"Seamus, mate, you're really sloshed, aren't you?"

Seamus grinned up at Dean, his cheeks lightly flushed, his eyes sparkling. "I wouldn' say slosh'd. Com-for-ta-bly fuzzy, sure, but not slosh'd."

Hermione was laughing somewhere, but looking over was too much bother, Seamus decided. Besides, looking at Hermione wasn't as nice as looking at Dean. She didn't leave this warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach the way Dean did. Or was that the wine?

"Well, he's in no state to apparate," Harry said. "Want to crash here, Seamus? Couch is comfortable and 'Mione's hangover cure works wonders."

"Nah, that's all right." Dean was smiling at Seamus, and wasn't it a pretty smile. "I'll walk him home. Fresh air and excersize'll do him good."

"It's just as well," Hermione said. "You probably shouldn't be apparating either, Dean."

"Thanks for a lovely evening you three, we'll have to do it again."

"Yes, and soon. You're not allowed to disappear for another couple years before you come back, hear me?" Ron sounded like he'd had a couple too many glasses of wine too, but who was Seamus to judge. "We should get in touch with Neville, do a boy's night or something."

"Sounds graaand."

"Heh. Yeah, that sounds good, Ron. We'll be in touch."

We. Seamus and Dean. We. There was something fantastic about the way Dean said 'we' and meant 'Seamus and I'. Seamus had missed being part of a 'we'.

Still grinning Seamus hugged the trio good bye and then followed Dean outside.

"So then, home?" Dean asked, smiling at his friend.

"Home," Seamus agreed, dropping an arm around Dean's shoulders as they set off.

***

When presented with a cool breeze and a warm body anyone's natural reaction is to move closer towards the warm body. When the warm body is also gorgeous and friendly it just makes it all the more tempting.

"Here we are then mate."

"Hmmm?" His arm was still slung comfortably around Dean's shoulders as he leaned sideways against the taller man.

"Your flat. We're here." Dean's voice was quiet, the smile on his face leaking into his tone.

"Oh." Seamus tilted his head up but made no move towards the door.

"So... you should probably go in."

"Yeah..."

And then he was standing on his toes, stretching up towards that down turned face. Their lips brushed together and it was sweet and perfect and he pressed forwards into this lovely kiss.

And then it was over.

His arm was no longer around Dean's shoulders; he couldn't feel Dean's warmth protecting him from the chill evening. Dean had stepped back, and he was saying something.

"What?" Seamus felt bereft and alone as he looked down, unable to meet Dean's eyes.

"You're drunk."

"Er... yeah. Yeah I am." Without another word, and without looking up, Seamus turned and headed up the stairs to his door. He didn't look back, not wanting to see Dean turn and walk away. He carefully closed the door and wandered into his living room where he slowly collapsed onto his couch, Dean's words echoing in his head.

" _You're drunk._ " It was accusation and refusal and forgiveness all in one horrifying phrase. How could he have been so stupid?

As he drifted off to sleep Dean's voice continued to circle in his brain, its slow, sad tone would have almost been relaxing, if it hadn't been so awful.

***

"Hello, Seamus." She'd half way been expecting his call, and when his number showed up on her mobile her heart had dropped into her feet.

"Hi, Lav." His voice was dull, flatter than even the tiny little speaker on the mobile could make it.

There was the nice way, and there was the quick way. But they knew each other too well and too long to need to do things the nice way. "What happened?" she asked, sounding worried.

"I got drunk."

The pause went on long enough that Lavender was really starting to get worried. "And?"

"I kissed him."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

In a perfect world Dean would have swept Seamus up off his feet, carried him to the nearest bed, and had his wild way with him. Lavender, however, knew that this was not a perfect world, and even if it were, Seamus would not sound so upset if that had happened.

"What did he say?"

"'You're drunk'."

She paused. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"Just 'you're drunk'?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well..." she started.

"I doubt it," he cut her off.

"But maybe..."

"Probably not."

"What about..."

"He wouldn't have..."

"You don't know that."

"No," Seamus admitted. "I don't know it. But I think it."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing."

"Bull. If nothing else I can take you out, get you drunk on the expense account, and help you get a warm body in bed."

This pause went on long enough that Lavender began to suspect she'd lost the connection.

"I don't want..." he started vehemently, but she cut him off.

"I know that! What do you want?"

"... Dean."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Laven..." She didn't hear his protest, hanging up the phone and turning off the power so his inevitable calls would go to voice mail.

"Right. Where did I put Dean's number?"

***

"Dean, it's Lavender. Meet me at 8 at Blake's on High Street. We need to talk. The place is dress cas. so you don't need a tie."

Other people made plans and checked schedules - Lavender Brown made reservations. Everyone who knew her for any length of time knew that when she said "meet me" it was either going to be good for you to show up, or wonderfully bad, and either way you wanted to go.

Dean sighed as he erased the message on his machine. He knew it would undoubtedly be in his best interest to show up. He also knew exactly what Lavender would "need to talk" about.

It wasn't bloody fair, he thought to himself. Seamus had been _his_ best friend longer than Lavender's, shouldn't _he_ be the one to understand the man?

With another sigh he headed back into his bedroom to see what he had to wear that would qualify as "dress cas." to the ever stylish Ms Brown.

***

It was characteristic of Lavender to be fashionably late whenever she went out for fun. Blake's was one of her favourite haunts, and Edward, the head waiter, knew never to expect her for at least fifteen minutes after her reservation, while her party might come upwards of ten minutes early. So when she breezed in at 7:30, still in her work clothes, he was taken by surprise.

"Lavender, my dear, I'm sorry but your table isn't ready yet," he managed, not showing his shock. "I can seat you at the bar..." He would not suggest that she was waiting. A woman like Lavender did not wait.

Which is why he was utterly flabbergasted when she assured him the bar would be fine and added, "Sorry to be so early, but a meeting ran overtime and I didn't want to be late."

Lavender Brown? Worried about being _late_? It was unprecedented.

"Edward, darling," she said as she breezed past him towards the bar. "Pick up your jaw off the floor. This is important."

***

Dean was nervous, and it just got worse as the night went on. Bloody Lavender apparently didn't talk Ôbusiness' during dinner, and trying to come up with conversation topics when the only thing he could think about was that damned kiss was bloody impossible.

"Explain," he finally said. "If you don't talk business during dinner, then what's with all the business dinners you go on with Seamus? I've heard him mention your Ôexpense account'..."

She laughed. "It's something my favorite consultant came up with. He's an American, which explains a lot, but his idea was, essentially, that young professionals get put under so much stress and need an outlet. He'd practically worked my boss around to paying for me to go chat with a psychiatrist once a week when John mentioned Seamus. It's far cheaper for them to pay for me to go out with my best friend and relax once a month or so then a shrink would be, and, since I'd never actually go to a shrink, it made it far more likely I'd actually take them up on it."

"Huh." Dean looked incredulous. "They pay for you to go out and party?"

"No dear, they pay for me to look out for my mental health by taking an evening to relax with a close confidant. It just usually turns out that we go partying."

"What do you _do_ for this company that's so important?"

Her smile was slow, almost predatory. "I bring them a whole new market. I'm the Head of the Department of Extraordinary Affairs and Consulting Advisor to Marketing."

"What?"

"Translates to Wizarding Consultant."

"So, it's true then, about things becoming more integrated here? When I first saw Seamus' mobile I was stunned."

"Mmm, yes and no. It's very slow integration, if you can call it that at all. Essentially, our world is being careful and controlled about the interaction between worlds. No Muggle company can deal with any of our markets without having a licensed Wizarding Consultant working for them, and likewise any Wizarding company who wants to get their paws into the Muggle markets."

"Weird..."

"Oh, it's marketing and capitalism at its finest. Hell, you've been in the States, surely you've got some experience with this."

"Not really. The artistic community tends to avoid talking money at all costs. Surely you didn't think all the statements about Ôstarving artists' were jokes?"

"How depressing," Lavender said with a small smile. "Lack of forethought is what that is."

***

Dean finally lost it when the coffee and cakes came. "Lavender," he started, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Yes, Dean?" Gone was the relaxed, carefree veneer, as Lavender dropped straight into her Ôprofessional' mode.

"Er..." he hesitated, somewhat confused by her shift in demeanor.

"Seamus," she said. "We're here to talk about Seamus, and drinking."

"Er, yes." It became readily apparent that unless he said something right now, this conversation would go the way that Lavender wanted it, and Dean wasn't sure that that was the way _he_ wanted to deal with things. It was, he thought, something to be discussed between himself and Seamus, and wasn't really any of Lavender's business. "Look, Lav," he said, forestalling whatever she was about to say. "I kind of think that this is something I should talk to Seamus about."

Lavender grinned. "Good man," she said, picking up her latte and leaning back in her chair.

There was something highly unsettling at the way she was looking at him. It rather felt like she was surveying him and seeing a chessboard. And a chessboard where she had just put him in check at that. _It's too late for me to try and deal with this_ , he decided. "I should probably head home." Reaching for his wallet he added, "Shall we get the check."

"Oh, don't worry about it." She waved away his offer. "I can cover it."

"You sure?"

"Wouldn't want to see my favorite artist starve."

He couldn't help but smile at that. "All right. Thanks. I'll see you later." Rising, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and headed out of the restaurant.

Lavender finished off her drink, wrinkled her nose at what was left of the chocolate cake on her plate, then signaled Edward.

"All done?" he asked, coming towards her.

"Yes," she said. "Put it on the account."

"On the... Certainly."

The woman smiled up at him. "If the company can pay for Seamus to watch out for my mental health they can damn well pay for me to watch over his."

"Ah." Edward nodded, then hesitated. "You don't normally worry this much over his... affairs. This one is... special then?"

"Mmm, very."

***

It was a good thing, Dean decided, that Seamus' flat had a buzzer, because it was much easier to be annoying and persistent with a buzzer than a bell. There was nothing more aggravating than 'Shave and a Haircut' played over and over again on a buzzer.

"Come on, Shame, you have to give up sometime," he muttered to himself as he started in on his sixth rendition.

Either Seamus had gotten a lot more self-control while Dean had been away or he was really upset over what had happened. Dean thought the smart money was on the later.

Without warning the door was open and there was Seamus, pretending to look surprised, all dressed up to go out.

"Oh, Dean, hello." His smile was bright and his tone cheerful. "I didn't know you'd come. My buzzer must be broken, sorry 'bout that. I'm about to go to a meeting so I can't really..."

"What are you doing today?" Dean cut in, rather perfunctorily. "Whatever it is, cancel it." He knew that if he let Seamus get the upper hand in a conversation that he would never get a word in edgewise. Seamus could continue talking until there was nothing but words everywhere, surrounding and dividing them, and Dean wasn't going to let him do that. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

_It must be Lavender's influence_ , Dean decided, because half a second after asking he was striding past Seamus into the flat, not even waiting for the other man to answer. Seamus must have recognized it too, because rather than protest he simply shut the door, turning and leaning against it.

"Come in, make yourself comfortable," Seamus said a little belatedly.

"Thank you." Now that the first obstacle was past Dean suddenly realized that he was at a bit of a loss as to where to go from here. It was clear as anything that Seamus wasn't going to start this conversation, but, having forced the issue, Dean wasn't entirely sure he could go through with actually talking about it.

Sighing, Seamus shoved himself away from the door, heading further into the flat and shedding his coat. "Can I get you something to drink? I've got water, coke, beer... er, there may be some juice too," Seamus added when Dean gave him a look.

"Coke'd be fine. Thanks."

"Sure, hold on," Seamus said, then turned and headed towards the kitchen.

***

_Right, so, apologize, and say it'll never happen again, and hope you don't lose your best friend. What sort of idiot do you have to be to fall for a mate?_ Seamus mentally berated himself as he moved quickly about the kitchen, gathering glasses and pouring drinks. The thought crossed his mind that this conversation would be much less painful if he were drunk, but he quickly squashed it. He already knew just how well that would go over.

Seamus had no illusions about what Dean was here about. He'd known from the first message left on his answer phone and by the time the other man had started tormenting him with his own door buzzer he'd realized there was no way out of this. _Guess this is just one of those bite the bullet moments._

Sighing he picked up the two glasses and made his way back into the living room. "Here you go," he started, then looked up.

Dean hadn't sat down, hadn't even taken off his jacket. Instead he was striding across the room, coming to stand directly in front of Seamus. "Seamus," he said, staring down at him.

"Dean... Look..." Seamus took in a deep breath and glanced away from those eyes. He didn't think he could say anything as monumentally untrue as ÔI'm sorry I kissed you' while looking into those beautiful eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm sor..."

He didn't get any farther Ñ Dean didn't let him. Suddenly Dean's thumb was caressing his cheek, his fingers pulling Seamus' face back around towards him. Leaning down Dean kissed Seamus almost tentatively, then pulled away and looked down at him, biting his lip.

Seamus stared back, trying desperately to figure out what had just happened, figure out when his world had turned upside down. He tried to arrange his thoughts, and utterly failed when he realized that Dean's hand was still resting against his cheek. All he could manage was to stand there and stare.

Finally Dean broke the silence. "Well?" he asked, still looking kind of worried. "I interrupted you. I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"Er... never mind," Seamus said and then Dean was leaning down and kissing him again. Seamus forgot everything, forgot the world existed outside of this moment, and simply reacted. Which explains why, a second after he wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, the other man let out a gasp and stepped back.

"Seamus," Dean said. "You've just poured coke down my backside."

"Er, yes, I have, haven't I? Uh... sorry?"

Dean began to chuckle, reaching out for Seamus again. "You're insane, you know that?" he asked, pulling Seamus towards him.

"Yeah, I know."

"Ok. Just so you know."

Dean kissed him again, and Seamus had to admit, later, that it was a romantic, and terribly fitting, ending to the story.


End file.
